



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE 



JEWELS OF KING ART 



BY 



JAMES CONNOLLY 




BOSTON 

RICHARD G. BADGER 

The Gorham Press 

1906 



Copyright Igo6 by James Connolly 



All Rights Reserved 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

DFC 14 1906 



Copyri^iit Entry 

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CLASS A 

/ ic 3 /^7 

COPY B. ' 



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77^1? Gorham Press^ Boston 



To Pajaro 

My pet Mocking Bird 
Laureate of the Great South West 



CONTENrS 






Page 


The Jewels of King Art .... 9 


N earing Port 






13 


Regressional 






14 


The Sea Tide Choir 






16 


Outward Bound 






16 


To the Humming Bird 






17 


To the Author of "Old Glory" 






18 


The Lipton Cup 






19 


Senator Hoar 






20 


A Sea Chase 






21 


Her Anszver 






22 


Beauty Chasing 






23 


Playing the Game 






23 


"Joy and Pain 






24 


On Coronado Beach 






24 


Love 






25 


Memorial Day 






25 


The Crisis 






27 


Winter out West 






28 


One Pale Primrose . 






29 


The Financier 






29 


Once More in Peace . 






30 


A Morning with Delarey 






30 


Extremes 






32 


My Home Port 






34 


A Morning Call 






35 


The Dreamer s Outing 






36 


The Yellow God 






38 


The Bow- Wow Banquet 






38 


The Sailor's Wife's Christmas 






40 


To Cronje in Exile . 






42 


Two Stages 






43 


The Robin and Mocking Bird 






44 


A Morning Ride to Salvador 






45 



CONTENTS 



Sunset in Dreamland 
Rev. J. L. O'Netl, O 
The Transvaal 
Freedom's Appeal 
Florence 
On the Arno 
Life 

The Rain 
Morning 
Love and Gain 
My Lost Sailor Lad 
" In Tune " 

To 

In All's Land 
Kruger and England 



Page 

47 
48 

48 

49 
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51 
51 
52 
52 
53 
54 
55 
57 



THE JEWELS OF KING ART 



<J 



THE JKWKI.S 01? KING ART 

The warm south winds of May for days had blown, 
And sun and shower by fruitful turns had strown 
The fresh green hills and fields with op'ning buds, 
And all the quiet, heartsome neighborhoods, 
Untroubled by the discords of the crowd. 
Thrilled with new life; the trees in reverence 

bowed 
Their heads, and flung their leafy banners out 
Amid the song of lark and thrush, and shout 
Of farmer boys disporting on the grass, 
Or watching the home coming milkmaids pass 
And linger at the turn of the boreen, 
A little way beyond, where could be seen 
The better every simple charm and grace 
Of rounded bust and limb and glow of face, 
And tapered ankle, foot and shining tress, 
And all the lure of native loveliness, 
Resistless as the flowers are to the sun. 
That round his convex orbit daily run. 

This ominous wind of passion and desire 
Had from the skies blown, like a wind of fire, 
All winter glooms and dismal cloudiness — 
The Prince its prurience had felt no less 
Than did the peasant. And Hanrahan 
The red and Aebhen held both court and clan 
In strange enchantment of their mystic spells. 
At twilight when the dews and vesper bells 
Filled all the lovely land of meath around 
With that divine delight of sight and sound — 
And taste and smell and feeling, all too fine 
For any but the fairie poet's line. 



MacBuain, sweet spoken Prince of Emania, 
With all his men at arms in rich array, 
And charioteers, fared forth Aillinn to meet — 
Aillinn the loveliest maid and passing sweet — 
Of all the maids of Leinster, she who knew, 
Or thought his stories, as his love were true — 
To meet him at Rosnaree was journeying 
With retinue like the daughter of a king — 
Leaving her Boyne behind her fast and far — 
And urging forward toward her Pilot star. 
The steadfast light and life of her heart's life — 
Her one supreme desire to be his wife. 

Deep in the beauty of a flowery glen 
MacBuain now called a halt and bid his men 
Unyoke their chariots royal for the night — 
And when resigned to the serene delight 
Of such entranced moments, all too few. 
There from the south a horrid spectre flew 
Toward them with vehement step, and fleet 
As wings of fire flame up a city street. 
"Go meet and ask him whence he comes, and 

where 
He goes, my men; and of surprise beware!" 
Ordered MacBuain, "and why such headlong 

haste, 
As a white Deer by hounds, swift-footed chased." 

" From Leinster Mount I came, and back I go 
To see the river Bann's majestic flow 
Through prospects fairer than your Ulster boasts, 
MacBuain!" the sceptre cried, "nor all your 

hosts — 
Your chiefs and men and troops can save Aillinn — 
I saw her by the youths of Leinster slain — 



10 



There is my news !" Then fled the shape away 
Like gust of wind blowing down a stormy sea. 

Seeing their stricken Prince pale, totter, fall, 
His troubled chiefs around him gathered all. 
To get him quick restored and comforted; 
But found alas that his great soul had fled 
Its house of clay to meet Aillinn's above 
And bide in the eternal realm of love. 

They raised his tomb and rath with loving hands 
Whereon a stone inscribed in Ogam stands — - 
The Ultonians played their funeral games anew, 
And from his grave a yew tree tall upgrew. 
The spectre then to Ailhnn's presence went; 
Her heart at sight of him with fear was rent — 
"Whence comes he? We know not this strange 

rude man," 
She trembling said. 

" From the bright river Bann 
I come apace, and to Mount Leinster go " — 
" You have strange news," the maiden said, " I 

know." 
" No news have I at all worth mentioning, 
Save that I saw his men the grave digging 
Of Ulster's Royal Heir — and bury him 
Who died for love of thee at twilight dim." 
The spectre sped away, the maiden fell 
Dead on the spot, as olden Ollavs tell. 
Her maids and ladies waiting, all in tears. 
Saw her entombed in royal state, as peers 
Of greater realms at last are laid to rest. 
With fresh blown roses dewy on her breast. 



11 



Then marveled all the neighborhood to see 
Grow from her grave a towering apple tree, 
Till on its top at seven years' end appeared 
Her lovely head, by fairy hands upreared — 
And men tilled, at the noon of darkest night, 
Their new rose gardens by the yellow light 
And beauty of her long disheaveled hair — 
And on the yew, grown over MacBuain's grave, 

there 
Stood his head, till bards and prophets saw 
The primal truth of love behind the law, 
And cutting down both trees they straightway 

made 
Of each a poet's tablet, broad, with gold inlaid. 
On this the courtships, loves, espousals, feuds, 
Of Ulster one wrote down, and nobler deeds 
Of chiefs in arms. On that of Leinster wrote 
Another likewise, down from time remote. 

Long centuries after, at a festival 
Given by Art, High King, in Tara's Hall, 
To all the learned men of art and science, 
Who brought their Ogam tablets to the prince 
As was the custom, to be read and sifted 
By those with critic acumen most gifted. 
The King's all-seeing eye with rapture caught 
Sight of the tablets, so divinely wrought, 
And took them in his hands for closer view. 
When, quick as thought, together then they flew — 
And clung as close as woodbine round an oak — 
"Na}^ do not sever them," the king up spoke, 
' ' But thus preserve them with our jewels rare 
In Tara here, that time to come may share. 
And future kings, such symbols of the days 
Of old, when men loved in sublimer ways 



12 



And lived the precious things of Hfe to shield 
From vandal hordes, as sages have revealed." 

For centuries the tablets were preserved 
An all good purpose of King Art well served 
Till ages after, came a fire wind blown, 
Kindled by Dunlang and burnt Tara down; 
And all its treasures rare went up in flame. 
And the great heart of Erin felt the shame 
And feels the loss and sorrow now, and must 
Till time's no more and all things fallen to dust. 
Yet on its ashes, in the coming reign 
Of liberty, shall rise a nobler fane 
To truth and justice than the world's yet known- 
Where love shall find a kingdom all her own. 



NEARING PORT 

The towering peak behind the harbor mouth 
Looms up resplendent in the bright sunset ; 
The voyage near its end, but we would yet 
Sail on exultant in the dare of youth — 
Love, song and valor, beauty, freedom, truth, 
Long charmed our way and left us no regret — 
No adverse gale or false light we have met 
Could stay our course or lure us North or South. 

To port and starboard braver ships are strewn. 
Blind, trusting to their reckoning in the dark. 
They plunge through surges dire of gulf and main. 
No pilot nigh, no light of star or moon. 
Ah, why must ne'er so many a gallant bark 
Her final port of endless joy attain ! 



13 



REGRESSIONAL 

A vast Kipling! 

Ye mighty tighty little islander, 

How darst ye thus yer warring kin folk slur — 

In couplets fling 

Their follies in their faces? Ye should know 

'Tis gall to Broderick, Saulsbury and Joe 

And Kitchener 

And all ye bid take up the white man's burden 

Of guilty gold and Empire, the poor gurdeon 

Of crime and war. 

Ye are the chosen laureate of your race 

And might have sung its faults with better grace. 

Though I judge not 

Lest I be judged, but from our Howels take. 

My dictum terse, for he at least's no fake, 

Here on the spot. 

Ere the dry rot or Botha sweep it from the earth 

And heaven gives the boastful race new birth 

Of feeling, seeing 

The right of other people's to their own 

God given countries, to be theirs alone — 

The right of being 

Free in all justice to each neighboring state 

More bent to love and be beloved than great. 

But thou wouldst force 

Thy little island by laws down the throatsf 

Of greater nations, and with lawless votes 

Estop the course 

Of native justice, or with maxim guns 

And all yer men at arms and tons and tons 

Of vile falsehood, 

t"f/e sticks to his traditions and so help him God he will 
force his little island by laws down the throats of greater 
nations." — Emerson's English Traits. 



14 



Like craven minions lie the lives away 
Of those ye darst not meet in open fray, 
As brave men should 
Ye pay to gold a homage absolute,* 
The while in me such homage vile ye shoot. 

And still ye land 

Yer "Kngland wherein all is false and forgedf" — 

With spoil and plunder all her vaults are gorged. 

She prays to God 

On bended knees for power his laws to break, 

And offers up on gallows, at the stake. 

Her sacrifice 

Of freeman's lives, her holocaust 

Of all that maids and matrons comfort most 

And strong men prize. 

For these and nameless crimes her doom is sealed. 

She must to God condign atonement yield ! 



* "There is no country in which such absolute homage is 
paid to wealth." — Etnerson. 

t"/« true England all is false and forged." 

"I am afraid that English nature is so rank and aggressive 
as to be a little incompatible with every other." 

"Hardly the bravest among them have the manliness to re- 
sist this." — R. W. Emerson. 



J§ 



THE SEA SIDE CHOIR 

Two mocking birds at mass and vespers sung 
Upon the cross above the chapel door, 
All spring and summer, and still joyous pour 
Such wondrous notes the choral chants among, 
They seem to issue from some angel tongue. 
The ocean dirges, wafted evermore 
On wings of sensuous trade winds, from the 
shore 
Of South Sea Isles, where floral censers swung 
In tropic suns, diffuse an incense sweet 
As burnt Alabanum at the Savior's feet, 

The beauty of their riant measures lend. 
The voices of the mountains and the trees — 
Within, without, these heavenly harmonies 
In adoration up to God ascend. 



OUTWARD BOUND 

The long bright summer days have come again 
Restless around us roll the shoreless seas — 
Close on the freshening trade wind how she flees ! 
Our little bark with masts and shrouds astrain. 
What rapture love to be thus free ! The brain 
Is dizzy with delight. What brilliancies 
Of tropic suns and stars and all that frees 
The mind from languor and the heart from pain. 

Nor reck how far ahead our destined port 
While at the helm our mighty pilot stands — 
In him we trust nor dread or reef or gale; 
E'en while of tempests wild the bubble sport 
What joy is ours obeying his commands. 
Whither close reefing or snug furling sail! 



10 



TO THE HUMMING BIRD 

Radiant gem of beauty rare 
Flashing through the morning air ! 
When spring aglow, with song and shout, 
Flings all her leafy banners out, 
And buds in later suns expand 
A blaze of beauty o'er the land, 
From flower to flower on restless wing 
Spinning to taste each honey spring, 
Deep in the heart of every flower. 
Embosomed in each fragrant bower. 

From every rose some rare tint caught 
Was in thy lustrous vesture wrought 
With emerald and carmine hues, 
And iridescent evening dews, 
And glistening rainbow fragments : spun 
From rays of morning star and sun, 
And tropic rain — and mist, and light 
Of the warm languorous southern night, 
And crimson, violet, olive gold 
In infinite loveliness untold. 

How far the unfathomed sea below 
Sparkled the rubies' wondrous glow 
Thy slendor throat encompassing? 
Ah never grandest crown of king 
So bright a jewel yet displayed — 
What time the blithe sea fairies played 
Thy little song's accompaniment. 
On their strung harps of gold, that lent 
Strange music to the monotone 
Of the old sea's eternal moan. 



17 



TO THE AUTHOR OF " OLD GLORY" 

Old Glory of immortal song that bore 

The palm of poesy to our western shore — 

Pity and sorrow for thy land ingrate — 

As Dante's was, so now thy sad estate. 

E'en Homer's self, neglected, blind, must needs 

To pour his epics from a heart that bleeds. 

And all we know of Paris, Helen, Troy, 

Is what his genius left us to enjoy. 

And what of all that nations, men have done 
In arts or arms or science 'neath the sun — 
Or what has wealth with all her golden store 
Or kings and heroes ever compassed more 
To tell to future ages whose the thought — 
The bold design that cunning hands hath wrought 
Into ideal forms of bronze and stone 
But what the bards divine have sung alone. 

The banners under which the brave and free 
In every age have marched to victory, 
Pennons that high at reeling mastheads flew, 
When battling navies reddened all the blue, 
And the last words from dying sailor's lip. 
Nor plaint nor moan, but, " Don't give up the 

ship!" 
Were " pictures in the air," of freedom's soul. 
What urged our Greely, Nansen to the pole — 
Dewey and Shafter under torrid suns. 
Where dire disease, more fatal than the guns 
Of Spain, cut down their seared ranks so grand? 
The "enchanted web" ennobling their command — 
The flag that stood for all that men revere — 
God, Country, home, wife, children, all that's dear 



18 



To manly hearts, that sweetens Hfe, refines 
The spirit sense, as length of years old wines. 

And if those arms that bore on glory's field 
That flag aloft, unknowing how to yield. 
Fall powerless now, by want unnerved, and they 
Who craven shrank on freedom's reddest day 
By craft and fraud and gold's despotic reign 
The very name of liberty profane, 
From time's prolific womb a race shall rise 
To light with brighter stars our darkling skies. 
Then freedom, truth and justice, high above 
The god of gain enthroned, and peace and love 
Their blessings shall diffuse with lavish hand 
And happy homes again adorn our land. 
Temples to heaven ascend, whose gifts so rare, 
The poor shall portion with the millionaire. 



THE UPTON CUP 

Flower of the shamrock, 

Trophy of the brave, 
Now is ours Corinthians — 

Sir Thomas Lipton gave 
The precious symbol to us — 

A challenge bold that we 
Defend must 'gainst all comers 

On ocean, bay and sea. 

Fresh blows the wind round Loma, 
Far inland, up the bay 

The silver gate's wide open 
To all who come this way — 



19 



A royal welcome's waiting — 
True sailor's hail and cheer 

Will greet all in the future 
With joy of yester year. 

Fill high the cup ; our pennants 

Fling higher to the breeze. 
Drink deep to love and friendship 

But drain not to the lees. 
A brimmer to Sir Thomas 

When soon he comes out west 
To win our hearts all from us — 

The fullest and the best. 



SENATOR HOAR 

To think and feel two ages long and more, 
And act above one's time, high as the stars 
The earth above are, leaves a man some scars 

That tell how nobly he the brunt had bore 

Of battle for the right his years three score — 
For equal justice to all men where dar's 

His country's flag to float with honor o'er, 
Nor native good nor high ideal mars. 

For these and more than any speech or song 
May utter, Hoar, thou in the senate stood 
And taught mankind the truths sublime that 
must 

In God's own time uproot all crime and wrong — 
The law of love and human brotherhood — 

The glory of a nation to be just. 



20 



A SEA CHASE 

When you see the land so lavish of its beauty and 

increase 
Of nature's bounty, that to men yield comfort, 

joy and peace, 
And the proud sea's costly freighted ships, from 

every mart and mine 
Come crowding in, O murmur not that none of 

these are thine. 

Some are thine by right eternal of God's holy will 

and law, 
As his High Priests and Prophets taught, the more 

they daily saw 
The shrewd and evil-minded ones of olden times 

possess 
Themselves, the things that heaven designed for 

all men's happiness. 

But they wrought them single handed, giving men 

a fighting chance — 
In the days ere combinations owned the wide 

world in advance. 
And trusts and corporations, every self respecting 

man 
Crushed, and put to shame the very name of free 

American ! 

Come away to where the savage of the South Sea 

Islands may 
A precious little longer let his instincts have their 

play; 
We can loiter in the cocoa grove and from the 

dukite run. 
Or in shades of clustered palms hide us from the 

tropic sun. 



21 



There the fruits of earth abundant grow, in mellow 

clusters fall 
Into the lazy lap of each, the common right of all. 
Haste we, haste we ere the greedy trusts have 

filed on even these. 
And brought the tattooed islanders submissive to 

their knees. 

Then at last the floating islands, rent by typhoons 
from their base,— 

Together round the harried sea in our canoe we'll 
chase ; 

And if they perchance shall vanish in the dark- 
ness from our ken, 

Then in mid ocean fearless, free, me must go down 
like men. 



HER ANSWER 

My love to adorn with rare garlands 

Of pearls and of rubies so fine, 
I sailed and I sailed to all far lands 

And ransacked sea, mart, reef and mine. 

And then when with gems I had decked her 
That outshone the sun and the stars — 

O fool that I was to expect her 
To honor my years and my scars ! 

But now more ambitious than ever. 

She said with evasion polite, 
" Somewhere 'neath the Stygian River 

Dear Jack they have found a Kunzite." 



22 



BEAUTY CHASING 

A man and a boy together 

Stood talking beside the sea, 
When up flew a fugitive feather 

Of foam. With raptuous glee 
And laughter the boy ran after 

The vanishing white that flew 
Inland where, taller than pine or fir 

The majestic palm trees grew. 

Till the white sea foam in mist dissolved 

And the boy back musing went. 
" Hast seen life's mystery aptly solved, 

My son. Nor is that beauty spent ; 
In yonder river's arid flood 

'Twill back to the ocean flow 
Then with fresh beauty inland scud. 

For God has decreed it so." 



PLAYING THE GAME 

He had cornered rice and risen the price 

Just double, and then it fell 

In a day so low he must needs " let go," 

And then he went to — well. 

From that evil hour Imperial power 

His phrensied mind possess' t 

And proud at the helm of his airy realm 

He stands the butt and jest 

Of the men who play, and but yesterday 
Followed his lead or tip, 
At his banquet sat and took off their hat 
To his rare good fellowship. 



23 



Forever the same is the mystic game 
Of life — who wins shall lose — 
Who loses today, tomorrow he may 
Win, if the jilt he woos. 



JOY AND PAIN 

Out of the heart rejoicing 

There comes to the world the pain 
Which its best and loveliest, voicing 

In throes of its larger gain, 
Gives it back in measure unstinted 

Joys sweeter than those it lost — 
Purer gold than yet has been minted- 

Nor minding to count the cost. 



ON CORONADO BEACH 

Broke the surf upon the sand 

In long waves of light so luminous. 
While in mine I prest her hand 

And up flew the salt sea spume on us. 
On her breast and hairs gold crown 

Jewels bright of sea mist glistened — 
Ah, how dull the noisy town, 

Jack!" she whispered reminiscent. 

Played the band and artists sung 

Near us in the gay pavilion ; 
But to me no nereid's tongue — 

No, nor seraphim a million 
Could her voice so soft and low 

Match in melody surprising : 
" O, Jack, dear! the undertow! 

We must move, the tide is rising!" 



24 



LOVE 

Love is the essence of all life and power, 

For " God is Love " eternal infinite. 

He said for love of us, " Let there be light," 

And light there was, His all illuming dower 

To earth, nor ever since that supreme hour 

Was beauty wholly hid in starless night — 

Somewhere the trees were green, the rose in 

flower 
Beneath a sunlit sky serene and bright. 

O, say not then that " love's a malady " — 
Or if self slain in some unlovely way, 
'Twill wake and fill thy empty heart again 
With light and hope and rapture, sinlessly 
As happy little children at their play, 
Whose voices are love's sweetest song's refrain. 



MEMORIAL DAY 

"The beautiful and impressive service of casting flowers 
upon the sea, in mem,ory of the dear sailors of our wars, will 
be observed this Memorial Day, the thirtieth of May, at 
Long Beach." — Los Angeles Times. 

Cast thy bread upon the waters — 
Strew your flowers upon the sea, 

Fairest of Columbia's daughters. 
Wreathe their memories lovingly ! 

Neptune greets you from his royal 

Chariot shoreward driven fast, 
With his hero subjects loyal. 

Of great sea fights over past. 



25 



Music shall our bravest waken 

From their long, deep voiceless sleep 

To a thrill of joy, partaken 

By their shipmates 'neath the deep. 

O'Brien first — he of Machias, 
Hauling down the British flag, 

Hails you, as once hailed Elias 
From the Jordan's stormy crag. 

Barry capturing the Edward 

Fires a broadside in salute. 
Who that hears his guns, or heard, 

Dare be, in your presence mite? 

Jones, back answering to Pierson 
With the hero's supreme might, 

The Briton vaunting he had won, 
" I have not yet begun to fight!" 

Farragut, lashed up in the mizzen 
Rigging of his flag ship, in command, 

As the morning sun uprisen 
Glorified the ravaged land. 

Ghostly fleets come sailing shoreward, 
In the sea mist shortening sail ; 

Eager for the first sweet foreword, 
Admirals and captains hail. 

Thus their fame and honor wreathing 
Fresh through centuries to come. 

To their spirits sweet songs breathing, 
Fear not, they shall not be dumb. 



26 



Every wave that on your beaches 
Breaks in voiceful memory 

From some olden squadron reaches 
With its brave tales of the sea. 



THE CRISIS 

O men who long have toiled 

In mine, shop, mart or field, 

Our blood within our veins has boiled 

How rich the hoarded yield? 

Let they who reaped the harvests tell, 

For only they may know — 

The men who all things buy and sell — 

Not we who plough and sow. 

They grudge us right to live, 
These mighty lords of earth, 
They gall with penury and give 
The men of honest worth. 
Who dare not truckle to the things 
Whereby their minions grow — 
Their weak mercenary underlings — 
Vile source of all our woe. 

We can crush this false pride 

Based on ill gotten gold ; 

The trusts and mergers open wide. 

That all men may behold. 

The guilt there secreted too long. 

By silken craft and guile, 

In vaults than any rocks more strong, 

A foul polluting pile. 



27 



Fraud and graft, graft and fraud 

Everywhere in our land, 

Twin she wolves, unashamed, stalk abroad — 

Contaminating band — 

Court and senate to defile — 

Judges, high financiers; 

The structure tottering the while 

To fall about our ears. 

O men of hearts too great 

For any taint or touch 

Of crime ! You must no longer wait — 

The crisis is now such 

That only you may hope to save 

The holy heritage 

Of liberty your fathers gave — 

Up and your contest wage. 



WINTER OUT WEST 

These quiet winter days and nights of rest 
Are all so filled with joy of living here 
It seems sometimes 'tis not an earthly sphere 

But some ideal island of the blest. 

Where never comes a weary heart in quest 

Of beauty and those charms that most endear 
But find them in this sunny atmosphere 

Of these majestic landscapes of the west. 

Now falls the rain in fructifying showers 
Weaving its vestures of translucent green 
To clothe the earth ; the wind among the pines 
Sings to the opening buds some tranced hours. 
Then comes the clearing sky's resplendent 
sheen — '.-^^ 

The sun of God, pervading all, resplendent 
shines. 



28 



ONE PALE PRIMROSE 

One pale, lone primrose, 
Faded but not dead 

Droops beside my path. 
No other flower blows, 
No soft showers spread 
Greenness of aftermath. 

Ah how bright in May 
All the land was shining ! 
Beauty at her best 
Reigned with charmful sway, 
Love knew no repinnig 
At an empty nest. 

But long summers drought 
Still must bring the sear 
Showers fall and lo 
Every vernal growth 
Beautifies the year — 
Then the roses blow. 

Beauty never dies — 
Only fades a space 
To take on fresh glow, 
Loves dear sacrifice 
To his ladies' grace — 
God decreed it so. 



THE FINANCIER 

He robbed the poor and built 
Himself a monument — 

Men have condoned his guilt, 
God is omnipotent. 



29 



ONCE MORE IN PEACE 

Once more in peace with pen and book 
I loiter in this quiet nook. 
The solace of my tree and vine 
The stimulus, the bliss divine 
Which in the noisy town forsook 
Me, now in holier peace are mine. 

A MORNING WITH DELAREY 

Meek and humble of heart they knelt 
In prayer on the wet autumn veldt, 
Delarey and his valient band 
Imploring that the mighty hand 
Of God again would aid the right 
And, win or lose the coming fight. 
That mercy, mercy would be shown 
The vanquished when the field was won. 

Then, in the dark the dawn before. 

They charge and raking volleys pour 

Into the reeling foeman's ranks. 

Cut through his center, turn both flanks — 

His cavalry in panic rout ; 

But raise no boastful, conqueror's shout 

Their dying captives' groans above 

Nor insult brother men they love. 

Now on the field a flood of light 
Comes pouring down, dispels the night. 
Revealing to the eye of day 
The sickening scenes of that short fray; 
Horses and men, or dead and dying. 
In sanguine heaps promiscuous lying. 



30 



Battalions that the field have lost, 
Disheartened captives, count the cost. 

Once more the victors, on their knees 

In blood, the wrath of God appease. 

" Dear Lord, 'twas not our will," they pray, 

" These erring Britons thus to slay. 

And loyal to our land and Thee. 

They seek all from us to take 

And we defend it for Thy sake." 

Delarey rising to his feet, 

The heart light of the paraclete 

Shines in his face. " Now men," he said, 

" Let wounded Boer and Briton be 

Treated with equal tenderness. 

Who to a fallen foe does less 

Betrays his God and brands with shame 

The hero's and the patriot's name." 

Methuen, wounded, wondering, hears — 
The simple words dispel his fears 
Of long captivity's disgrace — 
Delarey meets him face to face — 
" My lord art wounded? I regret 
That such sorry case we've met. 
In better days I could have nursed 
You as befits a man at worst." 

Swifter than keenest pointed dart 

His words transfix Methuen's heart. 

" O God," he groans within, " the pain 

Of all those sinless souls I've slain. 

Yet worse than this, their homes I've burned 

And this man's wife and children turned 



31 



Out on the ravaged veldt to starve — 
For what? A greedy king to serve." 

" Nor this the worst for me in store — 

His feeble mother past four score 

Adrift on the four winds of heaven 

I cast. He now defeats me one to seven, 

And- — with a kindness worse than whips 

Of steel on his forgiving lips — " 

" My lord, you and your men are free 

To go your ways," broke in Delarey. 

" My aides will see you safe to where 
Awaits you soothing solace, care ; 
My surgeon shall attend you day 
And night, assiduous on the way — 
God ope your blinded Empire's eyes — 
Too great the human sacrifice 
To bloated kingdoms paid and paid — 
My lord, adieu, our truce is made." 



EXTREMES 

"Turning to scorn with lips divine. 
The falsehood of extremes." — Tenneyson. 

Beside the idle shaft he lies. 

His hammer in his hand, 
His arms are bare, his eyes' death stare 

Still fixed on mountains grand 
Of coal, like giant sentinels. 

That round him darkling stand. 

Spent to its socket on his brow, 
The candle has gone out; 



32 



His wife and children, gaunt and pale, 

In tears now kneel about 
The one sole stay of their lives and play. 

While the vocal forests shout 

With their infinite tongues of liberty 

And in the city near 
The mighty owners of the mines 

Look grateful as they hear ; 
And the fools on strike, Ricard and Mike, 

Must learn their power to fear. 

And he, the lordliest of them all, 

Unpitying had decreed 
That closed right down the mines must be 

Nor cared what hand might feed 
The miners' children's hungry mouths — 

He was no man of greed. 

In his private car he rides away 

To where at anchor rides 
His yacht so fine, on the windy brine — 

On board in splendor bides 
His kith and kin, away for a spin 

O'er summer seas she glides. 

On, on, his floating palace flies 

While mirth and revelry 
In his cabins ring, where is felt no sting 

Of his late dire decree. 
But the starving cries of children rise 

To heaven eternally. 



MY HOME PORT 

Far out to sea indefinitely drifting, 

Becalmed, or buffeted by storms' great stress; 
My reckoning lost and unshored ballast shifting, 

Deeper I drink the dulling bitterness 
Of wild unfathomable wastes Antarctic, 

Where tall ice islands lift their glistening spires 
lyike grand cathedral steeples, which afar take 

On new splendors in the auroral fires. 

All night upon the troubled waters pouring 
Oil from the marrow of my bones out wrung, 

'Mid howHng winds and waves tumultuous roar- 
ing- 
Nursing a garboard leak, a mast head sprung ; 

Eastward I sail and sail like Vanderdecken, 
Away beyond the Cape of Storms afar ; 

Sea fairies from the cloud rack to me beckon 
" On, on to Banjamassan or Samar!" 

Till come at last to my out port's meridian 

I northward steer and catch the trade winds 
free. 
Then up the brave blue Indian Ocean fan. 

The fervor of the south pulsing through me. 
Then close ahead loom up a thousand islands — 

Fair gardens of the Malay's elder gods 
Richer in flower and fruit than dreamt I my lands 

Were, where the lotus in the ether nods. 
Sumatra, Java, Banka, Borneo, 

The coral sands that fringe thy lovely shore 
With sun and surf dyed gems are all aglow, 

Thy tall palm groves and jungles sparkle more 



34 



With radiance of thy black-eyed daughter's looks- 
Thy mountain brooks with frond and flower 
o'erhung 

More beautiful than all portrayed in books 
Or ever artist limned or poet sung. 

My reckoning, lost mid storms and dangers polar, 

When sea and sky were met in fatal fray? 
I find it here amid these beauties solar — 

My Pilot Star shall guide and cheer my way 
Onward, serene to my home port supernal. 

Where never gale or wave or pain assail ; 
Where ships at anchor ride in peace eternal — 

Answering the harbor master's kindly hail. 



A MORNING CALL 

The blossoms are falling, falling — 

White blossoms of almond and peach, 
And the blithe birds calling, calling 

Their mates in such exquisite speech 
That my poor heart grieves and my tongue but 
cleaves 

To my palate when I essay 
To invite thee love far afield to rove 

For one blissful holiday. 

Bright is our way and fragrant 

With the beauty and smell of flowers, 
And never a dull or vagrant 

Sad thought shall darken the hours. 
Together we'll sup from the golden cup 

Of the poppy life's rarest wine. 
With a wholesome laugh, while the bliss we quaff, 

In the glow of the blest sunshine. 



35 



On the hills hear the sweet mist maidens, 

So lovely in purple and white, 
In voices of softest cadence 

Our steps to their bowers invite. 
In the primrose dells hear the mission bells 

Ever chiming the old refrain ; 
Be happy today as a child at play 

Till, in death, thou art born again. 

See the old earth deftly wreathing 

Her head with young maidens hair; 
Feel her warm blood thrilling and seething 

With new life and love everywhere — ■ 
To heaven lifting her white hands — sifting 

From desert sands her finest gold — 
Come away to roam through the meadow foam : 

Where the young heart never grows old. 



THE DREAMER'S OUTING 

A dreamer, he of such strange beauty dreamed 
As never mortal eye had gazed upon. 
A thinker, she whose beauty erst had won 

The love of men more gifted than he seemed — 
And had not woman's will, since Adam, run 

To win ? And this her highest aim she deemed. 

Had he not oft in coldness past her by. 

Her look and smile unheeding, gone his way? 
Yet soon on him should dawn the fateful day 

When one brief glance from her love darting eye 
Should bring him to her feet to plead and pray 

For grace and mercy of his deity. 



36 



So when the greenness, dew and flowers sent 
On breath of June, into the city's throng. 
Their fragrance, and the woods were sweet with 
song 

Of birds, afield this sturdy dreamer went 
To bide and recreate all summer long — 

But she his selfish aim would circumvent. 

Well had he scanned the ills of city life 

While through his woodland ways alone he 

moped — 
No summer girl might thither drift he hoped — 
Here he was free from trouble, care and strife. 
How fresh the woods and green hills westward 
sloped 
The fields and streams with beauty all were rife. 

"Ah, but not here is what I've sought to find — 
The beauty of all beauty is not here.' ' 
"Thou hast not eyes to see, 'tis everywhere — 

Though chance of destiny hath made men blind 
To what they seek, that ever dwells anear, 

Seek with the light of all seeing eyes and mind ! " 

A dryad of the woods, for such she seemed, 
Before him radiant in a bower stood 
Of wild rose twined athwart the underwood — 

'Twas she had spoken — no, he had not dreamed — 
What new felicity thrilled all his blood — 

His eyes with very rapture danced and gleamed. 

* * Queen of all Queens, what homage can I pay 
Thee, sweet sovereign of all majesty?" 
"Bow down before me low on pliant knee 

And pardon for thy past omissions pray," 
A wood thrush piped atop the nearest tree, 

As down he bent exulting to obey. 



37 



THE YELLOW GOD 

"This is the white man's God, O, Chiefs, behold!' 

The Casique said to his assembled braves, 
Holding aloft the glittering lump of gold — 

"They come to pillage, slay or make us slaves — 
Let's dance to, and adore their deity. 

That it may bid them do us no such ill — " 
They danced and reverenced it with votive glee ; 

The God propitious, yielding to their will. 

But men from gods not always counsel take — 

When gold and conquest are the prizes sought; 
Alive they burnt the Casique at the stake, 

The God's good bidding coming all to naught. 
From north to south, from cast to west they swept 

And scourged the land with war and rapine dire ; 
Mothers with babes into the rivers leapt 

To escape the infernal pangs of sword and fire. 



THE BOW-WOW BANQUET 

The royal feast of the bow-wows 
Was set in the palatial house 

Of Lady Worthy at Newport. 
Around the well-bred cannies sate 
And of the banquet drank and ate 

Complaisantly as peers at court. 

Blazoned such gems on head and neck, 
As well might queen or princess deck, 

Of every setter, poodle, collie. 
Their ladies lounged admiring near 
Exulting in the festive cheer — 

'Twas "this is fine, — Nay more, 'tis jolly. 



38 



In vain may art and riches vie 

With nature. When the cups filled high 

Full often mantling had gone round 
Instinct, desire, mirth rebelled — 
No dog could in his seat be held — 

Such test their culture proved unsound. 

The ladies, shocked and shamed, withdrew, 
Around the liveried valets flew, 

Their blithesome masters to restrain; 
And when the dogs were curbed at last, 
Unrobed they were and forthwith cast 

All into baths of best champagne. 

Champagne with heather blossoms white 
Perfumed, as sweet as highland night 

Bathed in warm dews of summer sheen- 
Freemen, ' ' What think ye of these things ? ' ' 
'Tis simple truth, "the poet sings," 

Nor half of what he's heard and seen. 

Dim, dark and bare the tenements 
In Rockfelt's alley, high the rents. 

Half naked children grim and gaunt 
Thicker than bees around a hive. 
With hunger scarcely half alive 

These sunless, noxious abodes haunt. 

You hear the barking and the cries 
Of dogs and children and your eyes 

And heart with shame and sorrow rent 
Bewail as men the evil days 
When, drifting from their old sweet ways, 

False gods your daughters circumvent. 



39 



THE SAILOR'S WIFE'S CHRISTMAS 

A furious gale was howling, Cape Horn ten leagues 
away, 

The brave ship, hard-prest, groaning, under goose- 
winged topsails lay. 

The mountain waves wild-roaring, swept her fore 
and aft as high 

As the reeling mast-heads, bending under a black, 
storm-riven sky. 

Beyond the doleful darkness no eye had seen to 

shine. 
On that wild Christmas morning, one ray of hope 

divine. 
All hands tug fainting at the pumps, breast-high 

immersed they stood 
In water cold as snowdrift on the bleak polar land. 

Then, thundering down from Sou'west the fearful 

hail-squall came. 
In its black forehead burning an eye of frantic 

flame; 
"Aloft, brave lads," the captain cries, "and furl 

the foretop sail!" 
And then the song of valor rose above the wave 

and gale. 

But human power the bravest is futile to with- 
stand 

The vengeful blows and mighty of the storm- 
King's iron hand. 

The sails were blown to tatters, the yards were 
rent in twain — 

To death were dashed five sailors on deck and in 
the main. 



40 



Three dead men in the cabin, a woman sad and 

mild, 
Beside them humbly praying, before a crib and 

child- 
Blest symbol of the Christ-child in the manger 

lowly laid 
While gleams of glancing sunlight on all their 

faces played. 

Came down her husband weary, from the long 

night's fatal fray, 
A man of deeds and daring, not used to praise of 

pray; 
By love's sweet power she rules him, be kneels his 

wife beside. 
While falls the peace of Galilee upon the storm 

swept tide. 

Long since o'er life's vast ocean the ship has sailed 
her last. 

And reached the radiant haven, colors flying at 
half mast 

For all brave ships and sailors wrecked on reefs or 
lost at sea — 

For ships that sail in direful gale through all eter- 
nity. 



41 



TO CRONJE IN EXILH 

How fair ye, heart of valor and of truth ! the while 
The riant trade-winds waft thee to thy sea-girt isle 
The essence of that spirit bred upon thy veldt, 
That only souls supreme as thine have felt ? 
Intrepid warders of that boon, of God's the best — 
Banished from Europe far to exile in the west, 
And thence transplanted in thy southern land, 

ere time 
Had branded on her radiant brow or shame or 

crime ! 

O liberty! unconquerable ever where 
Thy life is lived, a simple unambitious prayer — 
Where luxury, with all her gorgeous train of woes, 
Has come not in to make thy erstwhile friends thy 

foes. 
Oh, may thy guardian angels hover him above, 
To soothe his griefs with whisperings of hope and 

love — 
And benisons of loving hearts, of his the life. 
The sweet caress, the magic touch of child and 

wife! 

Ah ! never yet so deep have rankled English gyves 
In braver souls or blighted more ideal lives 
Than thine and thy brave few, who fearless stood 

at bay. 
Scarce one to twenty, firm before the vast array 
Of Roberts' vaunting troops, till wasting famine 

sore 
Thy fall foredoomed. But final triumph waits 

before 
All valiant souls, and God is just, and yet will he 
Strike Briton's tyrant fetters from thy land and 

thee. 



42 



TWO STAGES 

I stood in manhood's morning prime 
The peer of any of my time — 
The peer, as men are gauged to-day, 
By gifts divine they fling away. 
With lust of gold my heart was fired, 
The more of riches I acquired 
The more the burning thrist consumed — 
My life, my very soul seemed doomed. 
While on my ears unceasing came 
The honeyed sounds of men's acclaim. 
And Woman, with resistless wiles. 
Lavished on me her dazzling smiles. 

Then came the change, as soon or late 
It comes to all. Ah, welcome fate ! 
Failure and loss my heart have bowed 
And nowhere mid the jostUng crowd 
Is left one friend to call mine own — 
I am forsaken and alone 
With thee of all I loved and knew. 
Through good and ill unswerving, true 
And faithful as when in our halls 
GHttered the showy festivals. 
And fashion's brightest arts decoyed 
Only to leave an aching void. 

Sing me to-night a simple song 

To soothe to peace and make me strong- 

A melody of love and youth — 

A harmony of joy and truth. 

Such as the wind in Maytime brings. 

Rose perfumed, on its dewy wings — 

That in it hath the entrancing call 



43 



To prayer and holy penance, all 

The rapture of the vesper hymn — 

The glory of the seraphim — 

And, chastened wing my poor soul's flight 

Up, up beyond this realm of night ! 



THE ROBIN AND MOCKING BIRD 

A robin red breast, migrating sou'west, 

His weary wing rested one day, 
Where the green, white and gold of a wide orange 
wold 

Set his fancy and voice in full play. 

A mocking-bird near on a larch, lent an ear 
To the soft notes so strange to his land — 

"Ho, red breast!" he sung in the robin's own 
tongue, 
"You are welcome, lad, give us your hand!" 

"Whence came you? you seem to be in a day 
dream," 
"From the northland, " the robin replies, 
"Where the frosty wind blows 'mid the realm of 
the snows, 
I am charmed with your warm winter skies, 

' ' May I linger till spring 'mid this bright blossom- 
ing?" 

"To be sure, lad," the mocking-bird sung, 
"Why bless you, my boy, 'tis our infinite joy 

To have you this Christmas among 

' * Our bowers Acadian with golden fruits laden, 
And flowers that bloom evermore, 



44 



'Mid our valleys so green, on our hills in the sheen, 
From mountain to vocal seashore. 

"Come away to the feast, be our first honored 
guest, 

At our festival, fit for a king!" 
"So unworthy am I, " quoth the robin, quite shy, 

And after his kind host took wing. 



A MORNING RIDE TO SALVADOR 

Across the mesa's lucent green 
The golden poppy's gorgeous sheen 
Such affluence of beauty flung. 
The leagues of wild flowers far among. 
That over all the glorious show 
Uprose a ruddy golden glow, 
And o'er the cloudless dome of blue 
A gossamer of saffron drew. 

On every blade of grass and thorn 

Glistened the dewy gems of mom. 

And fragrances more rich and rare 

Than Ceylon's spiceries were there; 

A lark's wild song the heavens filled — 

On palm and pine the brown thrush trilled ; 

An eagle from his mountain eyre 

Far north, sailed down the blithe March sky- 

And now, a song sublime — O, hark ! 

Surpassing voice of thrush or lark — 

It is the inspired mocking bird — 

The song that Saints in Heaven heard 

When bright Cecilia's soul took flight 

Upward on that dark, fatal night 

When martyr to God's truth, she died 

And was in Heaven beatified. 



45 



"Those ruins, girl, the hill below? 

The old Franciscan pueblo. 

Perhaps the only heritage 

Of a more glad, romantic age. 

When men lived less for pelf and power, 

And beauty and truth were woman's dower — 

Here on this fallen Sala floor 

In mirthful maze full many a score 

Of senoritas, fairer far 

Than Dian or the Morning Star, 

Danced, their fine figure's grace of motion. 

Like waves of some bright star-lit ocean 

Or wind-stirred lake, their dark eye's glance 

Shot through you like a Cupid's lance. 

Their cavalier's admiring eyes 

Hung on their beauties' witcheries. 

"This is the ruined altar where 
They knelt at Mass or Vespers, ere 
A hostile Saxon foot had trod 
Upon their shores, with rapine shod — 
You see his footprints everywhere, 
Sign of destruction, death, despair. 

Standing the shriveled palms beneath, 
The freer to respire the breath 
Of the wild rose and jessamine. 
There came out of the fallen fane 
A woman, bent, grey and decrepit ; 
She paused before the door and wept. 
As if her poor old heart would break. 
Xet's ask the stricken soul to take 
A ride,' Cecilia said, 'away 
From scenes that on her poor heart lay 
Heavier than the weight of sin'. 
'Pray, madam, may I help you in 



4Q 



To our poor coche ? There is peace, 

And of your sorrow sweet surcease 

Down in our sea-side cities throng,' 

Gracias senor, here I belong. 

Mi marido, ninos, todo lie 

Here long in dust and soon shall I.' " 

Gentle and meek as any child, 

Through her hot tears she bowing smiled ; 

Then, with the grace, polite and bland, 

Of her complaisant native land. 

She reached my wife her hand and said : 

"Adios, senora. Do not shed 

A tear for me ; I no more care 

For things the world in common share — 

My dead await me there above. 

Where all is joy and peace and love. " 



SUNSET IN DREAMLAND 

Alone, upon the headland's rocky brow. 
Westward of all the summer lands and seas. 
We roamed together — Now I drink the lees 

Of life's red wine ; and feel the moonsons blow 

Fresh in the brilliant sunset's afterglow. 
Odors of Bendemere and Celebes, 
Inward, to soothe the burning memories 

Of vanished joys I nevermore may know. 

But, ere the lingering radiance fades away, 
Come drifting in upon the surges hoar, 
The white-robed forms of friends who ne'er 
beguiled : 

Spirits, that lure me back to life's noon-day; 

Our ancient, ship we man, equip, unmoor, 
And put to sea, to breast the tempests wild ! 



47 



REV. J. L. O'NEIL, O. P. 

"The light he leaves behind him lies upon the paths of men." 

Our olive groves are vocal with the song 
Of many a bird you loved so well to hear ; 
Our Southern winter skies are warm and clear 

As when you loved to loiter all day long 

These stately palms and fragrant bowers among; 
Those too brief days of rest that you could spare 
From watching on the hill-top, in the care 

Of souls you saved by grace of pen and tongue. 

No, such transition is not death, but life 
Eternal, happy, and we feel the glow, 
O, gentle spirit, of thy presence near. 

It strengthens and sustains us in the strife ; 
Inspires, and saves us from the undertow, 

Uplifts us to a holier atmosphere. 

THE TRANSVAAL 

Freedom, in one short age has mighty grown, 

Pillared on justice 'neath her Southern skies! 
Her old despoiler, England, saw her rise. 

With open, virgin breast where diamonds shone 
In myriad clusters round her golden zone. 

Then, at her throat, the royal robber flies. 
Ah, must she stand or fighting fall alone ? 

The troubled nations gape with senile eyes. 

Now round her rally sons well tried and true. 
Intrepid, yielding to no queen but her ; 
United, ardent, simple, passionate, 
Sincere in love, steel strung of nerve and thew — 
Men of such soul and brawn as her own Kruger, 
Stand firm sweet maid, thy cause is just and 
great! 

48 



FREEDOM'S APPEAL 

Cronje in exile; Joubert dead — Ah, where 
Shall freedom find another two such men, 
To lead her valiant few o'er mount and glen, 

Against the robber hordes of England ? Spare, 

O spare, Almighty God, the men that dare 
Be free to-day, and loyal to Thee, when 
The armed millions, from their spoilers' den 

March forth to slay, nor reck the orphan's share. 

Columbia what of thee ? and thou, brave France ? 
Wilt sit and see your little sister slain, 
Nor raise one arm to ward the fatal stroke ? 
Backward a century to Yorktown glance 
And there some oldtime valor thou mayst gain, 
To save such freemen from the tyrant's yoke. 



FLORENCE 

Florence, more beautiful than thought can reach, 
Thy artist monks their lowly cloisters made 
With rare creations, in whose light and shade 

Seraphic forms move radiantly, and teach 

Such truths divine of loveliness that speech 
Can never paint, nor the hard hand of trade 
Efface. On thy maternal breast they laid 

Their heads, their fame upon thy altars, each. 

Around thee close the sunlit Appenine 

His sheltering arms in pristine fondness flung. 

As the young mother clasps her first- bom child. 
When all was pure from the great hand divine, 
At the first dawn and hoary time was young. 

And God on the new birth of beauty smiled. 



49 



ON THE ARNO 

How lightly Fancy dips her golden oar 

Into the Arno, and far up ascends 

To where the vocal river sparkling wends 
Through matchless beauty crowning either shore- 
To Florence, mother Queen of Arts, that bore 

Those masters of all time, whose canvas lends 

A glory such as only God extends 
To his creative few forevermore. 

Giotto here first gave eternal life 

To art divine — his touch gave Dante's face 

The unfading glow that centuries of strife, 
Nor ages dark nor vandals could efface — 
Nor the foul thrust of coward envy's knife — 

Giotto, Dante, first of all their race ! 



LIFE 

The hours we may live in the land of the ideal. 
Above the lower passions of the earth and all 
its pain 

Are the joys supreme of life — the felicities which 
We all may, as our souls grow upward, still in 
ampler measure gain. 



50 



THE RAIN 

The rain, God's blessed rain, 
On the parched land amain 

Falls, and the gaping earth, 
Barren so long, gives birth 
To beauty and joy again, 

Dispelling doubt and dearth. 

Out from the drouth of fears — 

The unbelief of years 

That dried my soul to dust 
Tears of repentance burst, 

Fruitful, redeeming tears 

Of faith, love, hope and trust. 



MORNING 

Up from behind the mountain's purple crest 
A golden glory, rolls the convex sun ; 
A-field their flocks, the jocund shepherds run. 
To sing their matins on the green hill's breast; 

Flash the white sails from seaward in the west ; 
And now the woodland songsters are begun 
To fill the hollow heaven with music spun 
From angel's dreams, in heavenly peace at rest. 

Ah ! there are scenes and voices manifold 
Of hamlet, farm, lake, orchard blossoming. 
Beyond the falling temple's white facade! 

Majestic towering in the blue and gold. 
Ascends the city, man's poor offering 
To God, for all the beauties yet untold. 



51 



LOSS AND GAIN 

In losing half our friend by dear Joe's marriage, 
The bands divine 'twere sinful to disparage. 
Our loss is happily his gain, and we, 
Though tears may start, will all rejoice to see 
The better half of him far happier, fairer, 
And she, sometimes may deign to be the sharer 
With us of mirth and brilliant converse blent — 
And O the soul of song that heaven sent 
To be our own. The flash of wit ; the gleam 
Of genius, lost in things that only seem — 
But why regrets, or future joys foretell? 
"He's good fellow and 'twill all be well. " 



MY LOST SAILOR LAD 

O winds of the sea blowing shoreward — 
Salt winds of the ultimate sea, 

Hast never a heart-cheering foreword 
From my sailor lad home-sent to me? 

That day when on board be was hieing 
He swore, as he kissed me good-bye, 

That no maid, to the day of his dying, 
But me could his true colors fly. 

Alone on the foreland, far seaward 
I watch as I watched, and I pray. 

When I saw in the blue haze to leaward 
His ship from my sight fade away. 

Ah, the long dismal years I have waited- 
Bleak, joyless, disconsolate years. 

Beholding ships sail in deep-freighted, 
'Mid welcoming bailings and cheers ! 



52 



Till my eyes and my sad heart no longer 
This watching and waiting can bear — 

Ah, God, spare my sight — make me stronger! 
Thy mercies abound everywhere. 

Now from the shore comes rejoicing, 

Now vocal the ocean with joy! 
But no homeward bound mariner's voicing 

A word of my lost sailor boy. 



"IN TUNE" 

To a lady, on reading a book which she had sent to the 
author with a request that he give her his opinion of the 
work. 

If thou, dear friend, 

Wouldst ever be in tune, 

Singing as joyous as the birds in June, 

With the great fact of heaven's infinity. 

Be as ever thou art. 

Whatever chance or change 

May bring within thy life's terrestrial range. 

Christ said, "Let children come to Me," 

And so as little children come must we. 

If come at all, to our inheritance. 

Beauty is everywhere 

And harmonies divine, 

If with true spirit sense we hear, and see 

Through eyes of faith, simple and happy, free 

From vanities of those that shine, 

In their own fleshly sight, and share 

The attributes of "men gods " and decree 

In sophisms trite the poor soul's destiny. 

Of such, my friend, beware — 



53 



l^he rose and violet blooms 

Brighter in virgin soil, and shed perfumes 

Broadcast along the valleys and the mears; 

No garden flower was ever sweet or rare 

As the wild rose beside the alpine flumes, 

The finished opera the city hears 

Is to the lark's wild song but meager cheer. 



TO— 
'Sing as the birds and streams do, just for the love of it." 

Dear — you bid us sing as when 

The gladsome "better days" were ours, 

And with us wrought those vanished men 
Through years of fruitful suns and showers 

That filled our spring and summer days 
With essences of song supernal 

And garnished all our wintry ways 
With boskages and flowers vernal. 

Our spring's now gone, ere well begun 
Your later northern singing season, 

Dry are our streams, or only run 
Sluggish their satumalian lees on. 

Ah me, how grey our hills, and bare ! 

Where late the poppy's vesture golden 
And saffron primrose blossoms rare 

To beauty bound us more beholden. 

'Mid stubble field and withered grass 

Still "Baby blue eyes," smiling at us, — 

Looks sweetly up, Alas ! Alas ! 
The dream is but an ignis fatus. 



54 



Yet in our hearts we'll sing elate, 
As all around on tree and cresting 

The mocking bird sings to his mate 
While she in blissful peace is nesting. 



IN ALI'S IvAND 

All that warm soft spring and summer the un- 
clouded arch of blue 

Heaven, serene and bright above us, daily bright 
and brighter grew. 

Ideal days and nights of stars 

An argent moon beside, 

Shot down their gold and silver bars 

Upon the earth, whereon uprose on high 

From valley, hamlet, hill, from moor and forest 
wide. 

From park and lawn and glen, such matchless 
melody — 

Such infinite choral song of birds, it seemed to me 

That never lute or harp had come to heavenly 
choir so nigh. 

How beautiful the far land bloomed and blossom 

ed plant and tree ; 
From rosy bower and river side and o'er the 

sounding sea 
Came sailor's song and maiden's hymn — 
In the palm grove's gorgeous show 
We touched great All's garment hem 
And in the radiant sunsets daily saw 
The dusky white-robed caliph bending low 
To kiss his holy ground by Obur's limpid brink. 
And with his prostrate votaries to lave and drink 
The chalice of their Soona God, and so fulfill the 

law. 



55 



Then full soon in the late autumn the parched 

earth's gaping mouth 
Cried aloud for rain, all beauty had vanished with 

the drouth. 
All song was hushed, the rivers dry, 
No dews at eve or mom — 
The burdened camel's startling cry, 
The caliph's chalice dry as desert sand — 
From all around came dying groans and wail 

forlorn — 
The scorching sun still burning pitiless. 
It seemed that God had ceased the fallen race to 

bless. 
And all His quickening gifts and treasures held 

fast in His hand. 

"Ah, what fools were we to wander to this fatal 

land in quest 
Of wonders, dear!" groaned Ethna, her fallen 

head upon my breast, 
"Our poor she camel's now gone dry, 
No sap in root or leaf 
Is left. Ah, Nial, 'tis hard to die !" 
"We shall not, love — take heart — have faith in 

God!" 
I kis't her pallid lips to soothe her fainting grief. 
Anon, athwart the flaming sky a cloud 
O'erspread, with flashing thunder pealing long 

and loud 
And poured the copious rain down on the laughing 

pregnant sod. 



66 



KRUGER AND ENGLAND 

Said Chamberlain to Kniger, "I must make an 
aid of you 
That will raise me to the summit of my fame — 
That will seat me on the wool sack as a Boer ought 
to do." 
And he sent him Redvers Buller to his shame. 
He was not a duke, nor earl, nor yet a sergeant — 

But a big brass-mounted general that came ! 
And he swore by all that's great: "Now 'tis for- 
ward ! No retreat. " 
But Joubert knew 'twas bluff, the British game. 

Said England unto Buller, — though at present 
fighting shy, — 
"I will send two hundred thousand men or 
more. 
Then you'll close in upon them on their kopjes by 
and by 
With hundreds to the burghers' half a score. " 
It was no kid-glove parading sort of battle, 

But batteries belching green hot lyddite flame 
At the frowning ramparts raised by their God, 
devoutly praised — 
And the Boers never missing once their aim. 

Said England unto Kruger. "You've had mira- 
cles before — 
Majuba hill stands topmost of them all, 
But if you watch Sir Buller, he may show you 
something more — 
Colenso and Spion Kop were not so small. " 
That's England's cock-sure way with weaker 
nations — 



57 



She serves all valiant foemen just the same, 
For she thinks her mission still is to rob and slay 

at will, 
So 'tis done in God's and cheap progression's 

name. 

Said Kruger unto England: "You may slay our 
soldiers all, 
But they'll die Hke men with rifles in their hands 
And then you'll find our women in the trenches, 
last to fall. 
With babes uopn their breasts, at your com- 
mands!" 
It was barbarous campaigning that would make 
a Zulu blush, 
And the Christian world was staggered at the 
sight ; 
But the Anglo-Saxon does it in the cause of pro- 
gress — hush — 
Doncha know the Anglo-Saxon's always right! 

Said England to Lord Kitchener: "You let my 
soldiers go ! 
This costly war has lasted long enough; 
Turn loose your thugs and cut- throats of Park 
Lane and Rotten Row — 
Austral bushmen — all your toughest of the 
tough ; 
They've no regard of wife, maid, child or mother, 

They know no pity, fear of God, or shame. 
Nor care what may betide, so their passion's grati- 
fied— 
They're the men that build my empire and my 

fame. " 



58 



They made a lord of Buller for his many brave 
retreats — 
For bidding White surrender Ladysmith ; 
An earl they've made of Roberts for his burning 
homestead feats, 
And a dukedom falls to Kitchener forthwith — 
For he starves the babes along of all the women, 
And keeps alight the havoc-spreading flame. 
So the wider to lay waste all the land in greater 
haste, 
Ere De Wet can block his ignominious game — 
Knight, Lord, General, Duke, Commander — 
But the everlasting cruelty's the same ! 



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